


revelations on a summer morning

by theweightofmywords



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-Deathly Hallows, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 11:50:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4347488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweightofmywords/pseuds/theweightofmywords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione contemplates her favorite season.</p>
            </blockquote>





	revelations on a summer morning

**Author's Note:**

> These characters are not mine. Written for the 2015 HP Ship Weeks on tumblr

Her whole life, Hermione Granger liked summer. She liked the feeling of the sun on her skin, the way her brown skin contrasted with the colors of her clothing. She liked the longer days, the sunsets showing off across the sky. Before Hogwarts, Hermione enjoyed the respite from her cruel classmates- their mocking and passive-aggressive cruelty, the kind that stings even more coming from young children. Those summers lavished her with time to read as many books as she could, free from the stares and whispers of her peers.

During Hogwarts, Hermione liked summers a little less because, for the first time in her life, she had friends. She found herself wishing she could talk to them about her literary adventures, even though she knew that they'd probably just roll their eyes at her. As summers past, the threat of war consumed her days, and reading for fun was replaced by research and preparation.

When Hermione began spending more of her summers at the Burrow, she loved the season more than she thought possible. The big breakfasts, the loud footsteps, the conversations that floated up towards the bedroom which she shared with Ginny. It was so different from her own childhood home, which felt as sterile as her parents' dental offices in comparison. In those summers, guilt seeped into Hermione's thoughts as she recalled the lies she had told them in order to gain their permission to stay at the Weasleys' home.

But then, she'd run into Ron on the staircase-- he, on his way up to his room, she, on her way down to breakfast. He, carrying a load of laundry; she, sweeping the stairs. Or they'd bump elbows or accidentally brush against each other as they did chores. And if they found themselves alone together, she had told herself that his face was red with mere sunburn. Her palms were clammy only because of the heat. That was what she had told herself in those days before the war began in earnest, before they went on the run, before they defeated Riddle. When there were moments that they were just two teenagers, bumping awkwardly into each other in the hall. In those days, she loved summer.

And now, with her eyes still closed, she feels the cotton sheet drape over her bare body. She thinks that she should feel more scandalized for waking up naked (next to a boy, no less!), but when she feels his arm pull her closer against him and his nose nuzzle into shoulder blade, she thinks that there could be nothing more pure than this.

"'Morning," she hears him say. She holds his hand in hers, feeling his scarred arms rough against her skin. She turns around to face him. "I love you, Ron," she whispers, more to herself than anything, because she can tell that he is still sleeping from the way he is breathing. And she feels a sort of grateful happiness that she has been given the chance to learn these intimacies. True, she thinks, the other Gryffindor boys are probably also privy to this sort of knowledge, but only she knows what his warm body feels like when it is pressed against hers, what his freckles look like from mere centimeters away, how his voice sounds as he whispers words that she never dreamed she'd be the catalyst for.

And as Hermione Granger tilts her head in to kiss that spot right next to his nose, that fleshy part of his cheek, right under his eye, she decides that summer is most definitely her favorite season.

 


End file.
